Stormchild
by nb41
Summary: In which it becomes apparent what the young Thor is to be a god of.


**Notes:**

Thor has always struck me as the sort of person who, if faced with a light socket large enough to shove his head into, would attempt to do just that. Likewise I see the task of keeping Thor from said light sockets as falling to Loki, and I wanted to explore that in the context of their childhood.

I also wanted to explore some notions about Asgardians and their magic; as such, this is almost certainly not comic canon (never read one) and to an extent is outside movie canon.

* * *

They both frowned at the on-coming thunderstorm in annoyance. Ever the bane of boy princes in search of fun, this one looked positively monstrous, flickering with lightning and towering blue-black and gray across the Asgardian sky.

"At least we can hide in the cave until it's passed," Loki said, trying to stay positive. Thor made an annoyed sound, and turned to stomp in that direction. Loki gave the clouds a last look and followed his brother, whom he rather thought resembled one of their father's steeds when it was in a foul temper.

The outskirts of the southern forest were just close enough to the borders of the palace grounds to avoid punishment and still far enough away to be interesting, but they lacked the weather control mechanisms which kept severe storms off the palace proper. Thus, Thor and Loki sometimes found their adventures waylaid by snow or rain or wind strong enough to pick them up. In such cases, a small cave they'd discovered tucked into the base of a hillside crowned with silver- and copper-barked trees was their refuge. It was perfect for them to shelter in, and gave them some privacy for playing games and telling stories.

"Hiding from storms is stupid," Thor groused, and threw himself to the pebble-and-sand floor of the cave.

Loki settled on one of their 'beds' of cast off clothing and pillows folded over pilfered boxes from the palace store rooms. "It's better than the alternative." Thor frowned at him in confusion, and he specified, "Being struck by lightning and returning for dinner soaking wet, so that we're punished for being outside the border."

His brother's expression eased. "I guess," he mumbled (this was Thor's version of 'you're right').

Loki grinned, and dragged out their supplies for the day: one of their games; a small rucksack of dried fruit and beef, hard cheese, and bread; and a canteen of water. "Here. We can have lunch early. Maybe the storm will be gone by the time we're through."

Thor brightened at the prospect of food and sat up, made a cursory attempt at brushing himself off, and began helping with the preparations. Loki arranged the gamepieces on the circular, banded board, and reflected that if Thor's growth spurt didn't slow down some time soon, it would take twice this much food to handle his brother's bad moods.

No sooner had they finished their meal and begun playing the game than the storm broke overhead, sending down sheets of rain and thundering all around them. Thor kept getting distracted, but he had always hated being cooped up in any way. Loki paid it little mind until he looked up from his turn to find Thor staring out at the storm, every muscle in his body tensed and ready for action.

"What is it?" Loki asked, searching the gray sheets of rain and hail for sight of anything. Thunder boomed like ocean surf.

"Can you hear that?" Thor asked, transfixed.

Loki strained. All he could hear was the storm. "Hear what?"

"I think it's the storm."

Thor's answer gave Loki pause. Under any other circumstances, he would have made a joke about his brother's hearing, but with Thor acting so odd nothing witty sprang to mind. "Thor, what's wrong?"

In response, Thor rose, each movement measured and deliberate, and walked out of the cave into the storm.

"Thor?" Loki sat, frozen with uncertainty for a handful of breaths. Then he thrust to his feet and moved to the mouth of the cave. "Thor!"

His brother was ascending a slick, treacherous, grass-covered slope. He was careful in his climbing, and undeterred by the forces raging about them; hail bounced off of him, and he paid it no mind. Loki was loathe to go out into the weather, though once Thor was on top of the hill his concern propelled him. He found shelter under a broad-leafed bush. "Thor! What are you doing? Come back inside!"

Thor looked back at him. Loki was chilled by the expression on his brother's face; he seemed entranced. "Can't you hear it?" His eyes strayed back overhead to the black and gray sky.

Loki swallowed back the lump in his throat. He didn't know what to do.

* * *

At first Thor had thought he was just hearing the wind through the reeds down on the riverbank, but as the storm broke over them the song flooded his head and he grew certain it was something else. Each move in the game became harder to plan out (and not just because Loki had always been better than him at board games) until he gave up entirely and let himself listen to the song.

It reminded him of a choir, the most quarrelsome and beautiful of them all. The Valkyries would have given anything to command these voices as they rode out over the battlefields. He wondered what it could be, and stared out into the weather to find the source, seeing only hail and driving rain. (He also wondered how his brother wasn't as distracted by it as he was, then remembered Loki was much better at focusing his attention, and didn't give it a second thought.)

Loki's voice intruded on his thoughts, and Thor only had the presence to ask, "Can you hear that?"

He got up and went out into the rain. He was sure he'd regret it later, but this was important.

The cave was too far down along the slope for him to hear properly, so he clambered up the hillside until he was in a clearing. This was much better; the song poured out from everywhere, and he laughed to hear it. In what seemed like response to his joy, the singing swelled to immense proportions, drowning his thoughts for two breaths. Lightning blazed overhead, and a crash of thunder sounded on top of him. He looked down at his hands and marveled at the sight of energy playing between his fingers.

The song grew closer and whirled around him, and he wanted to sing with it (that was the only right and true thing to do), but he had no voice to use, only a heart to listen with. His throat ached with frustration over being mute while the storm's wild song raged on.

If I can't sing with them, I can be an audience, he decided. So he raised up his arms and tipped back his head, reaching for the song in the only way he knew how. The rain was pounding and stung his eyes, and he closed them against it. Through the din he could hear Loki calling to him. Just a little longer, brother, he thought. With every ounce of himself, he called out to the storm, I'm here. I'm here. Then, I'm listening.

He felt the eyes of the power behind the storm turn to him, and his breath caught in his throat. It leaned down from the heavens, gazing upon him and into him for what felt like five lifetimes.

Then the storm coiled tight around him and whispered into his ear.

* * *

Thor's laughter didn't assuage Loki in any way, and the lightning bolt that followed it chilled him to the bone. "Thor!" he yelled, and was only stopped from running out from his cover by the sight of his brother, crackling with energy and grinning like a fool. There was no smell of burned flesh, nothing Loki would have expected when a person or even an animal was struck by lightning.

He was still trying to work out what to do (beyond dragging Thor back into the cave, which would be hard to manage given their respecitve sizes) when his brother raised his hands. Loki felt the difference, to say nothing of saw it, and his neck hairs stood with terror. The storm stopped throwing errant lightning down, and it went from a mass of cloud raging overhead to a slowly revolving funnel. As Thor reached up to it, the storm reached down towards him. Loki screamed at him to stop whatever it was he was doing, but the wind tore his words from him and carried them away.

He thought he saw his brother glance at him, then the whirlwind of cloud and rain and hail touched Thor, and his attention went back to it. Lightning began to form _from_ him, arcing out to trees and rocks and the ground, and the funnel cloud lit like the heart of a star. The air was hot and thick with ozone, and the only sound in the world was the roar of thunder.

Fueled by the certainty that Thor was about to get himself killed, Loki bolted forward, calling on all of his strength-magical and otherwise-to drive straight at his brother. He thought the storm would rip him off the ground, then he slammed into Thor, and his heart shuddered from the shock of it. A brief burning flash gave way to the sensation of falling. The two sons of Odin, black and gold, rolled down the slick, grass and mud hill, and the silence that followed was as loud as the thunder had been.

When they came to a halt against an obliging bush, Loki ground his teeth against the numerous aches and complaints of his body (and tried to pretend like the smell of singed hair wasn't going to bring up his lunch) and levered himself up against Thor. After a cursory examination of his brother, he realized the burns had to be his own, because Thor bore not a one. Blood flowed from the corner of one of his eyes, though, and when he opened them the sight of red sclera around a bright blue iris made Loki dizzy and nauseated.

"Did you hear it?" Thor asked in a thready, whispering voice that scared and angered Loki more than the lightning, more than the storm swallowing him. His booming, boisterous brother was neither just now, and the dissonance of that, added to all that had come before, was too much.

He slammed a hand on the ground and shouted, "You **idiot**! You almost got yourself **killed**!" His voice rasped too, and worse yet, it squeaked.

Thor only blinked at him, and Loki marveled at his brother's expression, like he'd gazed upon Yggdrasil itself. Then Thor's eyes rolled back in his head, and panic iced over Loki's heart.

"Heimdall!" he screamed to the clearing skies. His voice ground against his throat like gravel. "Heimdall!"

* * *

Loki struggled to wakefulness. Everything hurt, from his hair to his toenails. In counterpoint to that, he was resting on a soft cloud of something, and warmth embraced him. When he had enough strength to open his eyes, he did so, and found his father sitting next to him. Odin was speaking in quiet tones to a healer, whose eyes strayed to Loki. When the Allfather saw his younger son was awake, he gestured, and the healer quit the room.

It felt like a lifetime before Loki could summon up his voice to ask, "Is he alright?" The words were mere whispers, but Odin nodded just the same. He put one hand on Loki's head, and the pain receded.

"He will be, thanks to you."

Loki forced back tears. He would _not_ cry in front of Father, he would not. "I'm sorry-" He swallowed. "I'm sorry we went outside the palace. I'm sorry I didn't stop him sooner-"

Odin shook his head and held his other hand up, at which Loki fell silent. "Although I'm not pleased to learn that you went outside the Borders, what happened to Thor was not your fault, Loki. You couldn't have known what was happening. If anyone is to blame, I am, for not preparing Thor for this sooner."

Loki swallowed. His throat was raw and dry. "For what?"

Odin gave his younger son a gentle smile and offered him a small cup. Warm milk with honey awaited, and Loki sipped at it, letting it coat his throbbing throat. He fell into the familiar, happy embrace of learning from the Allfather. It was a balm he needed just now. "His magic. You came into yours much sooner, because your magic is the magic of the mind and spirit. You've always favored intellectual pursuits, and that in turn taught you to control you power very quickly. You've excelled in a way we seldom see." Now the Allfather sighed, and Loki thought he looked sad. "Thor's magic is very different. His powers lie in the forces that drive nature itself, and the strength of his heart and his body must be considerable to harness and use them."

Loki grimaced, and wondered how much of Thor's mannerisms stemmed from this fact. "So that's why he tried to swallow it?"

Odin laughed and patted Loki on the head. It soothed the last of Loki's fears. "Yes, yes. Much like the time he almost choked on an entire pheasant wing."

Loki smiled and settled against the Allfather, who stroked his hair.

"No more excursion beyond the Borders," Odin said, his tone gentle but firm.

"We won't, Father."

They sat in companionable silence for some time, then Odin tilted his head to look down at Loki. "Loki, this is very important. Thor will need you much more now than he ever has before. Control is not his strong suit, but he must learn it, or his own magic could be his undoing."

Loki nodded, and felt himself grow solemn. He already had a taste for what that could look like. "Yes, Father."

Odin gave him another pat. "Rest now." He rose and left the room, and the healer returned with disgusting medicine, then something mild and unoffensive for Loki to eat. And though he was starving and thirsty, Loki found himself distracted by Odin's words, and worked through the meal slowly.

_His own magic could be his undoing_.

* * *

Thor's dreams were turbulent and confusing. The storm's song fragmented as he tried to gather up the pieces and make sense of them, yet the harder he tried the more they seemed to slip through his fingers and shred into wind and rain. At some point the choirs fell silent, and he found himself exhausted with the mere act of being. Something inside of him yielded, and he fell into true rest.

When he opened his eyes, the room swam around him, and he shut them with a resolution to not bother with sight until much later. Someone came into the room, and he saw from behind his eyelids that the lights were dimmed until the room was almost dark. "Better?" his father's voice asked, and Thor nodded. He felt his father come to sit beside him, and edged himself closer to the familiar shape. Odin's hand fell on his head, and Thor dozed again.

The next time Thor remembered waking up, he became aware of two things in the same instant: the Allfather was there, and everything hurt. Things he hadn't known could hurt did. Breathing was painful, swallowing worse...he was sure even his hair hurt.

Seeking distraction, he risked opening his eyes, and was rewarded with indistinct shapes: a tray of food and wine for the Allfather, someone leaving (a healer?), and the doorway a bright rectangle that went dark once the other was gone.

Presently, the Allfather said, "So. Your brother tells me you tried to eat a thunderstorm."

Thor tried to cobble his thoughts together into a coherent narrative. He could remember Loki yelling something at him, and falling down a hill, and more yelling. This wouldn't make for a good explanation to Father (and he had learned from watching Loki that the explanations needed to be good), so he decided it would be easier to explain the internal happenings, and leave the external story for someone who knew it (like Loki). "It was singing to me." He thought carefully over what to say next. "I didn't know how to sing back. So I listened. I told it I was listening. And it tried to tell me something, but I couldn't understand."

The Allfather sighed with satisfaction and sadness in equal measure. "Then it is the power of the storm that you will wield."

Thor squinted up at his father. "Is that bad?"

"Not bad, just difficult."

If he'd been feeling better, Thor would have thrust out his chest at the challenge. He had to settle for blowing out a breath. "Not too difficult for me."

Odin's demeanor changed. "Thor, you must understand something. The forces of the storm are as dangerous as they are powerful. You're not ready to wield them to their fullest extent, and we will be years in teaching you how to do so."

As with most warnings his father gave, Thor paid little attention. He would be a stormbringer! It was almost enough to make up for the throbbing pain in his head that radiated all the way into his fingers. "Of course, Father." He forgot to drain the arrogance from his tone, and that earned him a dire look.

"Thor." The word fell like a stone, and Odin's oldest son felt dread prick at him. "If Loki hadn't intervened, you'd be dead. And unlike you, your brother isn't immune to the lesser powers of the storm. He saved you at no little risk to himself."

Thor's pride bled out of him. He swallowed (and regretted it on the instant). "Is he alright?"

"He is recovering."

The dread now collected on Thor's chest, boulder-like. "I didn't think that..." Words failed him, and Odin raised an eyebrow.

"Didn't think that your brother would risk his own life to save you from yourself?"

Thor shrank back. The thought that in the thrall of the storm he'd almost killed Loki twisted inside him. "I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes searching Odin's face.

"It is your brother you must apologize to," Odin told him, stroking his hair. "Once you're recovered enough. Your injuries are a good deal more severe than his."

"Oh." That wasn't as comforting as the Allfather had probably intended it; Thor knew he could take a good deal of physical punishment, but not Loki. Even a fraction of what Thor was feeling just now would have been much worse for his brother.

Odin added, "That will be sooner if you rest." Thor tried not to sulk.

"Yes, Father."

"Here then. Let us talk of the great stormbringers." Odin offered him a small cup of something warm and soothing, and had to help Thor drink from it when his hand wouldn't stop shaking. Weary already, Thor dozed off to the sound of his father reading from an old, battered book, and dreamed of stormy seas.

* * *

They allowed Loki out of the healing ward three days later. His eyebrows were making good headway on growing back, and his hair had been cut to remove all of the damage. It looked silly, or so he thought, and would encourage more ruffling than he cared for (which was any), but it couldn't be helped. The scorching on his skin was healed over, leaving pink splotches that would fade.

The first thing he insisted on doing was seeing Thor, and Frigga obliged him. His brother had been down the hall the whole time, it turned out, and Loki regretted not sneaking out to locate him.

There was almost no physical damage to Thor; the injured eye was still bloodshot, and he'd picked up some bruises here and there (from their ride down the hill no doubt), and this was the extent of it. To Loki's inner eye, though, his brother seemed like a towel that had been wrung too tight.

In spite of these things, Thor had a bright smile to greet them both. A healer brought some of Thor's food and drink, then returned with more for Frigga and Loki, and they all ate and made smalltalk. When their Mother left, the first thing Thor blurted out was, "I'm sorry I almost got you killed."

Loki rolled his eyes. "You almost got _yourself_ killed, that's what you should be sorry for," he said, and drank some water since he couldn't cuff Thor like he wanted to.

Thor shook his head, then winced and held a hand to one temple for a second. Once he'd recovered, he continued, "The storm could've killed you." He pointed. "Look what it did, just you trying to stop me." Glancing away, he sighed, and repeated, "I'm sorry."

Loki considered his brother. He sensed the hand of the Allfather in this; no doubt Odin had explained to Thor the magnitude of the situation, and for once his older brother was taking things quite seriously. Loki found it discomforting, this interruption in the routine, and he shifted in his seat. "Thanks," he murmured. True apologies from Thor were rare, and he was never sure what to say or do in response.

Thor looked askance at him. Now that the hard part (for him) was over, he seemed ready to talk business. "So you couldn't hear it?"

"All _I_ heard was thunder."

Thor bit his lip. "What was it like when you could first use your magic?"

"I don't remember." Loki put a hand on his pile of grapes, which to Thor's eyes turned into strawberries. "I think I've always been able to. Father said mine woke very early." He pulled his hand back, and they were grapes once more.

Thor huffed a sigh. "I wish mine hadn't waited so long. Now I'm so far behind you."

Loki brightened. "You mean, now you'll always be so far behind me."

Thor's face screwed up, and Loki bolted back from the bed before he was tempted to do anything. Thor leaned forward just a handspan, then paled and laid back.

"I'll remember that when I'm better," he warned, and consoled himself with a grape.

Loki grinned and darted in to fetch one for himself. "I know."

They ate in companionable silence, by the end of which Thor was already growing tired. As he helped Thor settle back into the covers and pillows, Loki said, "I'm not going to risk all my hair getting burned off if you try something that stupid again. I'll just throw rocks at you. Maybe I'll use a large stick if I can find one."

"Just you wait," Thor said around a yawn. "Soon I'll be able to use lightning. Then your hair won't be safe ever again."

"We'll see about that."

Thor's eyes slipped shut, and his breathing became even. Loki retrieved a book from the pile provided by the healers and settled down next to his brother, keeping watch until their Mother came to fetch him to dinner.


End file.
